


You Have Heart

by allofthefandoms



Series: Mirrored Experience [5]
Category: James Bond (Movies), Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Health Issues, Heart Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Stuttering, That Irene, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 02:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthefandoms/pseuds/allofthefandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Despite our care there might have been brain damage,” James said, trying to fight back a whimper.</p><p>Despite his efforts to keep his breathing deep and even, it began to speed up, and Q tightened his grip on James’ arm. Brain damage was often permanent, could permeate multiple areas of the brain, meant he might be out of a job, and he knew if he couldn’t code and work then he would be nothing, honestly nothing...</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Have Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Cleanedup for telepathicmagnet over on tumblr.

The situation with the informant in the Minister of Defense’s office had blown up in their faces rather quickly, and so James and Q had been sent to intercept the transfer of files. But, because life wasn’t fair, that hadn’t gone according to plans then, either. Their cover had been blown at the party, and now the two of them were both chasing after the informant, and being chased by the recipient of the information’s bodyguards.

They had just ducked down a dark alley when Q’s body started to give out. His endurance had always been shit, since grade school, and he had pushed it far past its usual terminal point. But that wasn’t the problem--the problem was his jackrabbiting heart rate. It was choppy, irregular and too loud in his ears. His vision was starting to tunnel and his chest burned. With a gasp, he stopped, falling against the wall and bending over, praying it was just his heart going too fast, and not something far more terrifying.

James looked back. James looked back to find Q slumped on the ground, and he could tell right away that something was wrong. But there was no question about what he was going to do. James wasn’t about to leave his husband, not even for the sake of the mission. Instead he raced back to Q’s side, turning him so he could breathe better.

“Percy?”

Q looked up at James, his eyes wide with fear. His chest was so tight, and his breaths were coming in short, uneven gasps, making his vision swim and his hands shake. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe...the overwhelming fear that came with that sensation swamped him, and he grabbed James’ arm. “Can’t...” he gasped, unable to get enough oxygen for the second word.

“This is 007,” James said into his headset, voice tense. “Q is currently having a heart attack and we require immediate medical evac.”

Moneypenny’s voice was nearly as tense as James’. “Med evac is being sent now.” She faltered for a moment. “007...is there any way to continue in pursuit of the target?” Eve asked, knowing very well that she was likely about to be shouted at for even suggesting that James leave Q’s side.

“Eve,” James scolded, not needing to say anything else. 

She sighed. “005 is within the area. I’ll put her on pursuit. You keep him breathing.” 

Q was staring at him, a spasming hand clutching his heart. “I need you to try to breathe with me, Percy,” James said, trying to get Q to focus on him. “Help is coming.”  
With his world whiting out like an old TV set, and the blood pounding erratically in his ears, it was hard for Q to focus on anything. But he knew what James would be asking of him--breathe, Percy, please--and so he tried, as hard as he could.

“How long do we have to wait?” James asked shortly. “Q has just lost consciousness.” And James is about to have to perform CPR on his husband of not 6 months.

 

“ETA 3 minutes. Is he still breathing?” Eve’s voice was starting to tremble slightly. This happened too often, to all their agents, but to her boys especially (yes, she thought of them as her boys--each of the 00s and field agents had a spot in her heart, but James and Percy were closest, and held most dearly). 

“No. Beginning CPR.” It’s a rote pattern, and the actions do nothing to soothe the raging panic building in James’ chest. Q was not supposed to die first. That’s not how this worked.

30 compressions, 2 breaths.  
30 compressions, 2 breaths . 

It wasn’t until the paramedics arrived and used a defibrillator that Q’s heart stuttered back online and he began to breathe. He was placed in the ambulance, and he and James were whisked to the hospital. A private room was already waiting, and James was told that as long as he was in no one’s way, he could stay in the room while they hooked Q up to scanners and tubes and IVs and ran a few tests.

James tucked himself into the corner facing the door, keeping an eagle eye on all the proceedings. It wasn’t until a doctor came over to him that he was able to pry his eyes away from Q’s still form.

"He's stable now. There are still slight irregularities in his heart rate, but we're monitoring those closely. We have him on oxygen, and someone will come by later with a new heart medication. We're going to keep him for at least a full 24 hours of observation." The doctor gave James a pitying look. "Let a nurse know of there's anything you need." 

James just nodded numbly. He can only hope 005 completed the mission, because he knows that if the mission failed, it would have been because he was emotionally compromised by his relationship with Q. And that fallout could be terrible for both of them. 

Q was still unconscious 2 hours later, when 005 limped into the hospital room. She was splattered with blood, and glaring, but when she saw James, she sighed. "You owe me, big time." she dropped down into the chair next to James, rubbing at her right leg. "Like, a huge favor. And a new dress." 

James looked away, shame filling him. She looked terrible, though there was the look of satisfaction in her eyes that let him know this mission didn’t fall through.

“You know I had no choice,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes. “He would have died if I had left, and if the price for his life is a big favor and a visit to my tailor, so be it.” 

005 sighed, and reached over to rest her hand (the one that didn’t have three dislocated fingers) on James’ arm. “I know. If it had been me and Teddy, I would have done the same thing,” she murmured. “He’ll be alright, though, yeah?”

“He’ll live, if that’s what you mean,” James said thickly. “But his heart’s been weak ever since...the first incident and this is a very bad sign for his overall health.” The unspoken fear is that this will happen again, that his negligence will have permanent and debilitating effects.

“So you get him on the good drugs and you take care of him and you soldier on,” she said quietly. “You know we don’t get much for ourselves when we take this job. We’ve got to take care of what we have. We’ve got to get the job done, but we’ve got to make sure we don’t lose the things we come home to when the job is done. I still haven’t figured out how to do it, but I think if anyone can, it’s you and Q.”

James just let out a long sigh, not quite sure what else to say. Irene had to know that the cause of Q’s ongoing health issues were his own failures as a partner (having abandoned him for 6 months) but he knew that the past was the past and couldn’t dwell on things he couldn’t change.

“James, darling...” she crooned. “Please, don’t be upset. You know that’ll only make him worse; I’ve heard the two of you bicker about that before.” Irene knew how hard it was to see the person you loved lying hooked up to machines to keep their heart beating, and to know that you had a hand in it. “Blaming yourself will only making the healing process longer and harder.”

With another sigh, James tried to blow out his anxiety.

“I just want him to wake up and be ok,” he said, his voice tiny. “His heart stopped beating for almost 5 minutes...”

Irene sighed softly. “I didn’t realize it was that long...” she murmured.

“He was receiving care the whole time,” James said quietly. “But I’m just scared. I’m a bit of a worst case scenario fellow.”

Looking past James, a small smile lit up Irene’s face. “Well...maybe not worst case this time. Hullo, Q, love.”

Q was blinking blearily at them, clearly not certain where he was or who had just spoken to him--Irene was outside of his limited range of vision without his glasses.

“Irene is here,” James said, unable to hide the relief in his voice as he leaned over to put Q’s glasses on. “She got the mission done while I looked after you.”

Q nodded, reaching out for James. “Wwwwhat happened?” He asked, the words catching in his throat and tripping on his tongue.

“Heart attack,” James said, smoothing back Q’s hair with a trembling hand. “Your heart wasn’t beating for almost 5 minutes.” He couldn’t stand the sound of Q’s stuttering, knowing that it had to have something to do with his heart attack.

Irene stood. “I’m going to go see if I can get some Vicodin and an ice pack, and maybe a ride home. I’ll let you boys be. Glad you’re back, Q,” she said, limping over to press a kiss to his forehead.

Q smiled weakly up at her. “Th-th-thanks, Irene,” he said. James just stared at him, swallowing thickly. Q’s smile faded. “There’s the l-l-look again,” he said. “Your guilt-t-ty look.”

It’s stupid,” James admitted. “I couldn’t have known this was going to happen if I took you out in the field. You had been cleared. I just...” He sighed. “You know how I am. I still haven’t forgiven myself for leaving, and as silly as it is, my mind traces everything bad that happens to you back to that.”

“You are silly,” Q said, reaching out to tenderly take James’ hand. “Because, look, I’m o-o-” he struggled to push past the stutter, but the word was stuck. Sighing, Q leaned back, abandoning the sentence. “Wh-why...can’t I speak properly?”

“Despite our care there might have been brain damage,” James said, trying to fight back a whimper.

Despite his efforts to keep his breathing deep and even, it began to speed up, and Q tightened his grip on James’ arm. Brain damage was often permanent, could permeate multiple areas of the brain, meant he might be out of a job, and he knew if he couldn’t code and work then he would be nothing, honestly nothing...

“Percy, stop that,” James said sharply, knowing exactly what was going through his head. “A speech affect is easy to address. Your hands aren’t shaking, you seem to remember things. Please don’t panic.”

To be sure, he mentally ran through his sisters’ birthdays and his top 5 missions with James (it was a secret list of missions where they had been especially brilliant together, and there had been mind-boggling sex afterwards), and everything seemed to still be in order. He let out a shaky sigh. “B-b-but, how can I guide you thrr-rough missions if I can’t speak?” 

“We don’t have to worry about that just yet,” James said softly. “I’ll convince M to give me a little time off, and we’ll figure things out. If that means letting someone else have the other end for a little while, so be it. I’ll still be coming home to you, after all.”

Q nodded and scrubbed his hands over his face, pushing his glasses up to rest on his forehead. “W-w-why does this shit al-l-lways happen to me?”

“Someone has to be on the receiving end of my bad luck,” James said, only half teasing. “Wish it could have been me, though.”

Q looked at James sharply from between his fingers. “N-n-no. Thissss isn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not,” James conceded. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I wish I could be the one in the hospital instead of you.”

“I don’t,” Q said softly. He knew he couldn’t handle it if James were hurt, or the one who could barely speak, or was injured in some way that Q couldn’t fix. He had been through so much pain; Q had no desire to wish his own on James as well.

James tucked a stray curl behind his husband’s ear, fighting back a choking urge to cry.

“They need you more than they need me,” he whispered. “A mind like yours comes once a generation. Me? Well, orphans with brawn and anger issues are a dime a dozen.”

Now Q’s hands were shaking, but it was because of the sorrow and fear that were running cold through his veins. “You are sssssso much more im-important than m-m-me. M-maybe not to MI6, but t-t-to me.”

“Then why can’t that one bad thing happen to me so I have an excuse to become your housewife?” It’s a silly thing to say, but the sentiment is real. He wants to be able to wait up for Q, wants to learn how to cook for him, and just how to make a perfect cup of tea. He knows he’d be sick of it after a week, but his quiet little domestic fantasy has always starred Q as the husband and not the wife.

Q smiled a little. “You, my hous-s-sewife?” He asked, and chuckled a little. The rather humorous mental image of James in an apron cropped up, and Q made a mental note to try seeing it in the flesh sometime. “I th-th-think of the two of ussss, I-I-I’d be the most likely to b-be the wife, don’t you?”

“What, you don’t think that I’d be willing to wait for you at home in nothing but a see-through apron?” James is teasing, a wide grin on his face. “You wound me.”

Q practically choked on his tongue, though for reasons entirely unrelated to his stutter. “Christ,” he muttered, eyeing James with shock. “W-w-where the hell d-d-d-did that come from?”

“I know you’d like it.”

“You r-realize you ha-ave to do that now, r-r-right?” Q asked, his expression a mix of shock and playfulness.

James held out his phone, the image of a leather and clear apron already pulled up. He said nothing, but the question was written all over his face.

For once, Q was speechless. “Sh-sh-shit,” he stammered. 

“It should arrive in a week’s time,” he said, not hiding the leer on his face. “Enough time to get this heart issue all sorted out and get you back to your fine self.”

Q nodded, looking a little dazed. “A-a-and to figure out this d-d-damn stut-t-t-ter.”  
“We will,” James promised, all joking gone from his voice and expression.

Q sighed shakily, hating the way his own voice faltered and broke, like a shit line of code--programmed incorrectly, jumping and skipping in the worst places. It made him feel broken, useless.

“I promise.” James ran his hand through Q’s hair, hating the look of distress on his face. He prayed that the stutter was the only thing Q had to overcome. It didn’t seem to be mental, but who knew with things like this? Or if there was a tremor or--James shook his head, trying to stop that train of thought before it got him in a panic.

“I th-” Q stopped himself before he could trip on the word. “...I want to rest n-now.”  
James helped him lower the bed and went to dim the lights before resuming his place at Q’s side. Slowly, Q’s eyes drifted closed and he fell asleep, James’ hand held tightly in his own.


End file.
